2017:
Is this my future? Riding around forever with no destination, pining over some girl like a smitten puppy? Is this what our society so easily becomes? One event and we're completely lost, helpless, confused, hopeless?
The stars were never so clear or so bright. And here we are, the absolute pinnacle of evolutionary accomplishment, and we're just wandering around aimlessly on a spinning rock that's screaming through a universe that couldn't care less about us. Without purpose. Maybe it would have been better if that very first micro-organism had choked on its own byproduct and left us out of the mix altogether. I find myself hating the first monkey to climb down from its tree house. Fucking prick. So much ambition to do what? Sit around in an open field, contemplating the meaning of life like a schlub? Pitiful.
I can't sleep. I'm always exhausted, but when my head hits my rolled up jacket...nothing. I lie awake and stare up. Every night I find myself making my camp further and further away from the group. Guillermo has commented on it. He says it’s dangerous. I find myself not caring. The only thing I feel close to anymore is Bitch. Maybe it's because she's the only thing in this world that needs me.
Every day it feels like I'm just floating behind myself, following myself. A disinterested wraith.
I reflect on the realization that just wandering aimlessly has been a pretty steady theme in my life. That's the worst thing. If this whole mess hadn't happened I would still be just as useless as I am now. I've lost nothing. My life was already an apocalypse. Irrationally, it feels like I just dragged the world down to my level.
Lucas tried to snap me out of this fog, bless his little heart, but thankfully he gave up on it. I know I'm dragging down the morale of the group; I'm just this cloudy little anchor that they drag along with them out of habit. I watch them interact with each other. All of their laughter comes out like a guilty secret. They're afraid of being happy around me. As though I'd begrudge them happiness. Am I really that pitiful?
I haven't shaved. I don't clean up. I look and smell burly and homeless. Homeless. Aren't we all?
I watch the sun rise. Another night spent staring at the stars. I rise and throw my jacket on. I walk back to where the others made their camp, Bitch following at my heels. Everyone is still asleep, so I get a fire going and just sit staring into it. Waiting. A lifetime ahead of me, and I'll spend it just waiting. Waiting to ride nowhere, waiting to stop somewhere. Waiting for the world to come back. Knowing that it never will.
Insomnia has me feeling emotional; I'm always choking back tears over something or another.
Mercedes stirs and rolls over. She watches me for awhile. I see her in my peripheral, but I don't acknowledge her. After awhile she gets up and shrugs on her jacket. She's been patched in, full member. Whatever that means.
She sits beside me in silence awhile. Then she looks at me.
"You're hurting him," she says. I shrug. "No," she says. "You don't get to not care. You're his big brother. You're the closest thing he has to a hero in this world. You don't get to shrug him off."
"He doesn't need me," I say. My voice is soft and scratchy. When was the last time I spoke out loud to anyone?
"Like hell," she says. "You're being selfish."
I don't have the energy to fight with her about this. I just shrug again.
"He's watching you fall apart," she says. "And it's scaring him. If you've got to rage, rage. If you need to vent, vent. If you need someone to take it out on, take it out on me."
I lean in and I kiss her. For a brief moment, I feel the softness of her lips against mine. For a brief moment, I feel my world come together with laser focus and crystal clarity. For a brief moment. Before she pulls away. Her eyes are sad. "I can't do that," she says. "I'll help you any way I can, but I can't do that."
I stare deep into her chocolate eyes for a moment. She stares back into mine. I blink first. "There is something you can do," I say. I pull Loki out of my waistband and I hold it by the barrel and I offer it to her. "Hold onto this for me," I tell her. "Please." I don't need to tell her that I no longer trust myself with it. I don't need to tell her that more and more I find myself thinking about it. About how easy it would be. About how tempting it's become. I don't need to tell her. She already knows. "If you love him," I say. "If you don't want him to hurt, then hold onto this for me." She takes Loki. It's big and awkward in her grip.
"Sean," she says. "Talk to me. What's wrong. There’s more going on with you than just Lucas and I."
I shrug. I don't feel like talking anymore. My hand drops down and finds Bitch's head. I rub her fur with my fingertips and she leans into it with gusto.
The others stir, wake. They make themselves a canned-food breakfast, and I eat with them out of habit. We pack up. We ride west for no reason. I bring up the rear. Alone.
We stop for lunch. They eat. I don't. I wander off and look at old, irrelevant road signs. I hear them packing up behind me, ready to go off on the irrelevant road again. I stay where I am. I don't feel like going. I hear their engines rev. Someone yells for me. I just sit in the dirt and drop my head in my hands. The engines cut off one by one. I hear boots approach.
Naomi sits beside me. "What'cha lookin' at?" she asks. I don't respond. "We don't have to ride today," she says. I shrug. "Oh, I get it," she says. "We're pouting." I ignore her. "Pouting I can deal with," she says. "Just don't throw a tantrum."
"Just leave me alone," I say into my chest.
"No dice," she says. "The club rides together or it doesn't ride at all."
I snort sarcastically. "The club," I say. "We just made that up."
"Could be," she says. "But now it's here and it means something."
"It doesn't mean shit," I say.
She punches me in the arm. Hard. "Most of us don't have families," she says. "None of us have anywhere to go. We have nothing. We don't know what tomorrow will bring, but every one of us knows that when the sun comes up in the morning, we'll still have each other. We know we'll have the club. That's what we hold on to. That's what keeps us going. All of that shit you're feeling...we all feel that, too. But the difference is that we're all coping with it together and you're just walking around alone feeling sorry for yourself."
My breaths deepen. I feel those insomniac waterworks brewing just behind my eyes.
"Look," she says. "I can see the way you look at her. That has to be hard. I get that. It sucks. But you've just got to fucking deal with it. No more moping. No more angsty loner bullshit. Lean on the club."
The tears come. She leans in to block me from the group, keeping my secret shame between the two of us. She holds me and I cry. All of the frustrations, all of the sorrow, all of the hopelessness, it all pours out of me. And when I'm done crying, I clean myself up, brush myself off, and we all, as a club, ride west.
That night, I sleep more deeply than I ever have.
And when I wake up in the morning, I make it a point to say good morning to Lucas. It's not much, but I want to show him that I'm trying. The dopey grin on his face shows me that it's appreciated.
I get half of a dopey grin myself before catching a glimpse of Mercedes, doing nothing more than spooning canned peaches into her mouth, and feel my heart break a little more. I slap Lucas on the shoulder with more brotherly camaraderie than I feel and move to the other side of camp. To sit beside Naomi. She smiles at me and says something I instantly forget, and we share a laugh that is genuine for her. My eyes keep drifting toward Mercedes, and the heartache must show on my face. Naomi tells me "just fake it until you feel it." I look at her and she mimes a big smile. "Don't worry," she says. "The mood will snap. I promise."
She takes my hand in her hands and she softly kisses my palm. Her eyes on mine.
I guess I can fake this, too. I lean in and I kiss her. Naomi doesn’t pull away.
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